


The Night Before the Year

by Areiton



Series: A Mix of Cockles [9]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Danneel knows, Established Relationship, Holidays, M/M, Phone Calls, Wish Fulfillment, everyone knows, fluffy fluff, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-08-13 18:29:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7981741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Areiton/pseuds/Areiton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A New Year's Eve phone call, and realization before the year that everything change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Night Before the Year

The Night Before The Year.

 

It was cold when he stepped outside, and he huddled tighter in his rough Carhart coat. A sane man would turn around, go back inside to his wife and family.

But sanity had been a fleeting thing of late, and this was tradition.

His lips curved into a smile as he hit the favorite contacts and brought the phone, ringing softly, to his ear.

“You’re late,” Misha’s voice was alcohol loose and low, lower than normal, but not yet hitting Castiel levels, and he grinned, tension he didn’t realize he was carrying slipping away.

“Sorry. Jared’s drunk and got affectionate. Took me a little longer than I thought it would to fend him off.”

Misha hums an acknowledgment, and Jensen drops onto the rock wall. “How is it?” he asks.

Jensen glances over his shoulder. _It_ being the families Ackles and Padalacki clustered under one roof, all three kids asleep in Tom’s bed, while Gen and Dani drank wine and picked at the food the mothers brought over. His parents were in there, with Jared’s and Stephen, though his wife and daughter retreated a few hours ago.

It was noisy, chaotic, perfect.

“It’s good,” he says, honestly.

“But?” Misha says, and Jensen smiles, because Misha always knows. When there’s a but, when he hesitates, when something that should be perfect _isn’t_ , Misha knows. It’s infuriating and soothing, all at once, and Jensen laughs, quiet in the silence of the Texas winter night.

“But I miss you.”

Misha makes a noise, then, almost pained, something caught between a groan and a sob, and Jensen breathes out, his name, a soft benediction.

He should be inside. Should be with his family, his wife and brother. Not here, in the cold and the dark, talking to a man who so easily flipped his entire world on it’s head.

“Tell me about your day,” he whispers, and he shoves his hands into his pockets, listening as Misha recounts it, the long day of West and Maison’s antics, of Vicki’s endless patience and Sasha’s pranks.

Darius is there, visiting for the holiday season, and Jensen grows quiet as Misha’s talk turns to him.

Irrational though it is, Jensen is jealous that Darius is there, and he isn’t.

“What are we doing?” he asks, suddenly, breaking into the middle of a story about West flooding the bathroom.

Misha hesitates. “We’re going slow, Jay. Slow and secret.”

His rules. Misha didn’t give a fuck who knew or how fast they moved. He’d never made any attempt to hide that lack of care.

_I love you, Jensen, and I’m not in the habit of hiding what I love. But we’ll do this at your pace._

_Why?_

_Because I love you, you idiot_

“I can’t do this,” Jensen says, his voice cracking, and Misha is silent. Waiting.

“I can’t be with you like this. It’s…god, Misha, why do you even let me do this to you. I treat you like a dirty secret.”

“I told you that we’ll take this at your pace.” Misha says, quietly.

“So you’re ok with this. Spending our time apart, except when we’re both filming. Fucking in my trailer and after conventions. Stealing time from our families to wish each other happy holidays?”

Misha scoffs. “You are my family, Jensen. I’m not stealing from them. I’m sharing with you. This time is ours. It’s always been ours. Vic, my brother. They don’t care. They’re happy that you make me happy.”

“Why?” Jensen almost begs. “Why the hell do I make you happy? I’m _bad_ for you.”

“Because I love you,” Misha says, softly. Simply. “And you love me, in your way.”

“What does that mean?” Jensen says, slowly. Feeling the cold for the first time, and Misha is silent. Not answering the question. And that is an answer.

“Misha,” Jensen breathes. “I love you. To the point of madness, sometimes.”

“But you want to end it.” Misha whispers, and his voice is small. Lost.

“No, babe,” Jensen groans. “No. I want to be honest. I want the whole fucking world to know you’re mine.”

Misha’s little gasp is worth everything.

“I’m tired of hiding this. I’m tired of being away from you on night like tonight. I want to figure out how to make this work without hiding.”

“Jensen,” Misha almost groans, and he laughs, a giddy noise. “You have shitty timing, Jensen.” Misha grumps, his voice affectionate.

Something muffled comes over the line from Misha, and he huffs. “I—it’s almost time.”

Jensen nods. “Go. Happy new year, babe.”

Misha’s voice is soft, a smile, “Happy new year.”

The other words. The _I love you_ is left like an unspoken promise between them. When the line is dead, and white air fills his ear, he whispers them, a quiet promise.

For a long moment, Jensen stares at his phone. At the picture of Misha smiling back at him. It was one Jensen took in his trailer, the last week of filming before hiatus. Misha’s sleepy and smiling, wearing an old t-shirt he found in Jensen’s dresser, his hair a mess as he peers up at Jensen, his eyes alight with laughter and mischief and love.

“Jensen.”

“Jesus _Christ_!” Jensen yelps, almost falling off the damn wall, whipping around to face his dad.

Oh, fuck, his _dad_. 

Alan stands there, a bemused look on his face. "Who the hell was that, Jensen?"

 And suddenly it's too much. Hiding it and pretending Misha means nothing more than being a good friend. He's tired of hiding something--someone--he loves. Dee knows and accepts it, Jared does, it's a long running joke in the fandom, and Misha is quiet about it but he knows it bother the other man to be a secret. To be hidden behind the veneer of friendship.

 "It was Misha." Jensen says, tucking the phone in his pocket.

 Alan pauses and then, "You told Misha you love him."

 It's phrased as a statement instead of a question and there's that familiar fission of fear that spikes through him, that good ol' boy mentality that says this is so wrong.

 Men in Texas marry women, have fat babies, big dogs and bigger trucks.

 They don't fuck men on the side and they sure as hell don't fall in love with them.

 Except that's what he did.

 "Yeah. I do that for the people I love," Jensen says, and he's proud that his voice doesn't shake.

 For a long moment, Alan is silent and then. "How long?"

 "Um. Since before Dee and I got married."

 From the very beginning, Misha's been there. They'd fought and they'd had whole months when they couldn't speak to each other. Rough patches when Vikki got pregnant and Jensen got engaged and Jared figured it out and made things weird before he settled into accepting the dynamic that didn’t changed anything while changing everything.

 But the relationship was always there. A bedrock that shaped him as much as Danneel did.

 "Why am I just finding out?" Alan asks, and Jensen's head snaps up. Surprised because of all the things he expected, the faintly hurt tone in his father's voice wasn't it.

 "Sir?" He blurts out.

 "This man is important to you. Enough so that you left your family to call him. Has been for years and I'm just now hearing about it? Why the hell are you hiding someone that matters to you?"

 Jensen stares at him, dumbfounded.

 "Because you didn't raise me to fuck around on Dee," He says, his voice weak and confused.

 What is even happening here. This. This isn't how it was supposed to happen. His dad was never gonna be ok with him and Misha. It's just the way Alan is. He doesn't even resent him for it.

 "Jensen, I raised you to love the person you're with and respect them. You've always given love and respect to Danneel. Why the hell would you give less than that to Misha?"

 "What....what the _hell_ is happening here?" Jensen mutters.

 Alan sighs. "Do you remember when you were in high school. Sophomore year. Right around homecoming."

 Jensen's stomach sinks. Of course he does. Hard to forget. But it wasn’t something he’d ever talked about. It was just. There, a persistent memory that he ignored more

 "How did you know?"

 His father smiles, a wry thing. "You're my son, Jensen. I don't miss as much as you think I do."

 There's a long moment of silence as everything clicks into place, and his stomach kicks off in a new direction of nerves. Then, "How long have you known about Misha."

 "Known? A few years. I saw you two together at one of the cons. Suspected at your wedding though."

 "Why didn't you say something?"

 "Figured you'd tell me when you were ready. But you’re a stubborn bastard and I'm tired of watching you keep him at arm’s length. I didn't raise you to do that."

 Jensen glances down, brightening his phone to stare at the lockscreen. JJ and Dee smile back, both of them leaning into Misha who is grinning, eyes crinkled, mouth wide and gummy. He took it a few months ago, when Misha crashed in their hotel room during a con.

 His family.

 "He means a lot to you, doesn't he."

 It's not a question but Jensen nods. Alan grunts. "Then treat him like he means a lot to you. Stop this friend zone bullshit. You'll both be happier."

 Alan pats him on the back and retreats, having said his piece.

 For a long time, Jensen sits there trying to absorb this new shift in his world view. Wondering if he should question it.

 And finally he does what Misha would.

 He laughs and says fuck it. Texts Misha and tucks the phone in his pocket before heading inside.

 

* * *

 

In his living room, a thousand miles away, Misha’s phone lights up with a text, and West waves it at him, coming dangerously close to dunking it in Darius’ drink. Misha rescues the phone and trips away, a little drunker than he thought, and still riding the happy high of Jensen’s call. Then he looks at the message and smiles, wide and wild, almost glowing as he reads it, over and over, the words blurring just a little.

_Happy new year, Mish. I’m done hiding._

**Author's Note:**

> A friend and I were discussing how almost blatant Cockles has been this year. And I got to thinking...why. Why do they both act like they quit caring if the world notices?  
> This is my fluffy wish fulfillment for that question.


End file.
